Roses to Ashes
by Illyriarocks
Summary: Trapped in the Pipeline, Black Siren relates her tragic backstory to the last person she expected: Dean Winchester. Part 4 of the Bulletproof verse.
1. Storytime

2016 had been a shit year. Black Siren spent the majority of it either fighting for Zoom under the threat of death or in this tiny little cell where she hardly ever saw another living soul. On the rare occasion she did, it was always that Cisco kid or the somehow-infinitely-more-insufferable Barry Allen of this Earth. Then she heard footsteps coming her way.

"I've spent a good six months in this glorified room-sized pillow you call a cell, you gonna let me the hell out or what, Allen?"

But the guy standing before him wasn't Barry or Cisco or even anyone with whom she was familiar. Sure, she saw his doppelganger on the television frequently before the particle accelerator explosion, but this guy had a different pallor about him.

"Who the shit are you, Happy Gilmore?"

"You can call me HR. I wanted to talk."

"You want to talk to me? It's not like you can even hear me anyway."

"I've picked up lip-reading."

This guy was something else.

"What do you wanna talk about?"

"You. Why you're like this when the Laurel on this Earth was such 'a pure ray of sunshine' as Cisco so eloquently called her."

"You gonna let me out?"

"You gonna kill me?"

"Jury's still out on that one."

Then the door opened and HR sat his happy ass down on a chair he had pulled up.

"I imagine this will be a long and fascinating story. I've got time. Start at the beginning."

Siren sat down on the floor opposite HR and settled in for a long conversation.


	2. 2007, Part 1

2007 was turning out to be an incredibly promising year for one Dinah Laurel Lance. She and Oliver were not only back together after a brief separation (some girl named Samantha had attempted to draw his eye) but also they were as strong as they had ever been. At 22, both of them were well on their way to graduating college and attaining their diplomas.

Fully intending to pursue something loftier than teaching history or architecture or anything like that, Laurel decided to pursue nursing. Something where she could help people that desperately required aid. That's all Laurel ever wanted to do: help those in need. She and Ollie had discussed it several times over and, whenever Laurel fretted about them not seeing each other enough, all her fears were laid to rest. In fact, they were buried deeper under a mound of confidence and hope every time.

This morning happened to be one of the brief times Laurel awoke before Oliver. Although she was usually up-and-at-'em before the sun rose, he was awake even sooner. Like her, Ollie was idealistic to a fault. He believed in people. He loved people with all his heart. Most mornings, he was awake at 5 am and either, a) volunteering at the soup kitchen in the Glades or, b) working the receptionist desk for Rebecca Merlyn's successor at the late woman's practice. While Laurel had once interned at CNRI, also in the Glades, her inherent fear of the impoverished district kept her from working there longer than absolutely necessary. It had nothing to do with the people there, oh she adored the people she had worked with, but the horror stories were what kept her up at night. Especially the tale of how Rebecca died. Assaulted on the street and "bleeding out on the pavement while people passed back in '95," as her husband Malcolm put it. Malcolm Merlyn, who had finally put a bullet in his head two years earlier. Neither Laurel nor Oliver had seen Tommy since May of 2006 and, while they feared the worst, ultimately accepted that if Tommy wanted to be found then he would.

Shaking these memories, Laurel refocused her energies on gazing at her sleeping boyfriend. Few of the daily sounds that existed in Laurel's universe were more heavenly to her ears than Oliver's rhythmic breaths while he was asleep. The calm she found in feeling his chest rise and fall soothed her without exception. For her, Oliver's very existence chased all those bad memories away. Half an hour later, she got out of bed and headed into the kitchen.

Upon her arrival at the stove, Laurel rolled her eyes. _Of course he did this_ , she thought as she pulled a handwritten note from the refrigerator door.

 _ **Never let Laurel cook.**_

"Very funny," Laurel called over her shoulder.

"Very true," Oliver called back, his voice still occupying the strange space between morning grogginess and the smooth quality it normally possessed.

Laurel found it incredibly sexy. She slinked back toward the bedroom and dove at the bed, landing not-so-gently on her lover's back and kissing his neck. "Hey, you," she chuckled. The morning ritual of "I love you," came simultaneously.

"Jinx! You owe me a soda!" Oliver laughed.

"You wish," Laurel smiled before kissing him. "It's nine-forty-seven, you getting up and doing your hero thing or what?"

"Don't we have class today?"

"It's Saturday, silly."

"I think Dr. Snart can stand me not coming in today."

"Well then you should email him or call the office."

"Come on, Lenny's a softy. He'll understand."

"Call. Him."

"Fine," he caved. "Good thing I'm actually coming down with something." He faked a cough that soon turned legitimate.

"Ooolllliiieee," Laurel whined. "Have you not been taking that cough medicine I bought for you?"

"Thought I'd be able to tough it out," Oliver said between coughs.

"And clearly the opposite is true."

"I guess you'll have to take care of me today."

"I guess so." Another kiss. "I'll be in and out today, okay? Gotta take care of some things for school and I can't focus on that if I'm with you all day. Sorry babe."

"I get it. I can barely hear myself think with all this gunk rattling around whenever I inhale."

"Ollie! If it's that bad, you're probably getting pneumonia or something. You need to cough everything up. I know it's unpleasant, but we can't have you sick your last semester of college. And what if you get me sick? My dad would not take kindly to that."

"Your dad doesn't take kindly to much of anything. If it gets any worse, I'll go to the hospital."

"Promise?"

"I pinky swear."

And so they pinky swore. As mature adults often did.

"If I die I'm sorry for your loss."

"Ha. Ha."

Laurel got up and pulled her jeans on, tucking her semi-buttoned dress shirt in and leaving it at that.

"I'll be back in an hour or two, babe!" The brunette called over her shoulder as she bounded down the staircase and out the front door.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

The house Laurel sought wasn't particularly out of the ordinary. It was a quaint suburban, two-story number. All white with the notable exception of a red door that was almost always locked half a dozen different ways. When she pounded on it with both fists, however, the door opened almost immediately. The woman to whom the house belonged wore her hair in a ponytail, her workout clothes crinkled. She'd obviously slept in them. The woman hid behind the door, keeping the wooden barrier between them. Classic mark of someone who knew they had done something wrong and were afraid of the consequences.

"Samantha Clayton."

"What do you want, Laurel?"

"I want you to stay away from my boyfriend."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play that game with me. You've been sending him all these little things. Letters, mainly, of an increasingly sexually explicit nature. Now, if the other party was willingly receiving these tokens then this would be a different story entirely. He's told you twice now to stop. He asked very politely, both times in person. Need I remind you that my dad is a cop? I have a maternal uncle who's a lawyer. How would you like to get sued for sexual harassment and then handed a restraining order? It would make it kind of hard to attend classes, wouldn't it?"

"Laurel, please-"

"I feel for you, Sam, I really do. I get it, your dad died and your mom drank herself to death. Your brother's a massive asshole. My dad has addiction issues, too, but at least I don't channel my emotional problems into stalking my classmates. Samantha, that's not healthy. I really don't want to have this escalate any further, but now you know how it will be dealt with if it does." She reached for Samantha, resting a comforting yet firm hand on her shoulder. A little bit of tough love never hurt anyone, right? At least she was being polite about the whole thing, which frankly surprised even her. Laurel fully expected to come charging over here, raging like a wild thing, and taking her frustration out on Samantha much like the brunette's grandfather did on her father. "Are we clear, Sam? Look, I know you are hurting and I know you need a release, but what about that Chad kid? Huh? He likes you. He's a good guy, I think you'd be happy with him if you gave him the time of day and stopped obsessing over someone who clearly isn't interested just because you fucked once at a high school party. It's not gonna end well for any of us, especially not you. Trust me, I understand that Ollie is a catch but you're only going to end up hurting everyone involved if you continue this behavior. I don't want that for you, Sam, we were friends once. So what do you say we end this here and now and forget it happened?"

"Otherwise?"

"Otherwise."

The meaning was clear. Samantha nodded and Laurel went on her way as if nothing had happened.

February, March, and April passed without much incident. Oliver hadn't gotten anything further from Samantha. Neither saw her. Well, that wasn't true. Ollie did receive a letter in the mail detailing just how sorry Samantha was for behaving in the way she did and asking for forgiveness. Not a return to their old friendship, because she realized such a thing was most likely unattainable, but forgiveness. The woman explained that she didn't expect anything to change from this letter alone, so once she graduated she would be headed to a rehab facility in Coast City. No party anticipated seeing each other ever again; a fact Samantha stressed multiple times in the 10-page "apology novel" (as Oliver later dubbed it) of a letter. It was almost as thoroughly detailed as the previous letters, only this time Oliver was only glad to read its contents.

"I'm gonna talk to her one more time," Oliver announced to both Moira and Robert one night after dinner. He was still playing with the remnants of his chicken teriyaki.

"Oliver," Moira cautioned. "Is that really wise?"

"Son. I know you don't want any hard feelings, but don't you think having this 'one last conversation' will only confuse her? The girl is clearly unstable." Robert added. "It could only encourage her to resume her behavior and prolong the situation."

"'Sitch-ia-shun'?" Came a small, tired voice from the parlor. "Ollie, are you in trouble?"

Oliver turned to see Thea, not yet 12, standing in her red pajamas and holding her favorite stuffed animal in her hands. The little girl sleepily rubbed her eyes as Oliver stood, went over to her, and picked her up.

"No, Speedy. We're just having a grownup talk. Nothing to worry your pretty little head over. Come on! Let's get you back to bed! I'll read you a story?"

"But it's the weekend and I' no' tired!" Thea mumbled.

"Haha," Ollie chuckled before peppering her little face with kisses. Thea shrieked and hugged her big brother as she was carried up the stairs.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Oliver knocked on Samantha's door. It opened soon after.

"Hi, Oliver."

"Can I come in?"

"S-sure? Yeah. Sure."

"We have a lot to talk about."

The bodyguards on either side of Oliver would make sure the conversation carried on relatively innocuously. No harsh words, no threats, just two people talking, trying to understand each other.

On graduation day, Oliver was shaking like a leaf. Not only because they were about the exit the bubble of academia, but also because of the little thing jostling around in his pocket. A ring box. Once all had arrived at the ceremony and commencement began, Laurel and Oliver waited patiently for their names to be called. Four hours later, it was finally over. Bruce Wayne's cousin gave his speech, the guest speaker did his thing, everyone got their diplomas and just like that college was over. They were citizens of the real world now, embarking on their first real adventure totally independent of their parents. It was so overwhelming as to be nauseating. Indeed, a few students found themselves in the bathroom bent over toilets on more than one occasion that day. Laurel was one of these graduates. As she was returning from the bathroom to the auditorium, Oliver grabbed her.

"Hey, babe! What do you think? Kinda scary, huh?"

"Yeah. I, um…"

"Babe?"

He fumbled with the box in his pocket. She glanced down.

"Ollie, what are you doing?"

Without thinking, without stammering, Oliver whipped out the ring box and got on one knee. Granted, he busted his ass due to shifting his position so quickly but he recovered and assumed a more dignified stance.

"Ollie!"

"Laurel, will you, will, um…" okay now he was freaking out. "I had this whole spiel to give you before I asked, but-"

The sudden feeling of Laurel's lips on his interrupted Oliver's thoughts. "I'm guessing that's a yes?"

"Yes, dummy! Of course, yes!"

Moira and Robert watched in the background, smiling and clapping. Thea, for her part, looked away from the amorous display. "Ewww!" She called out playfully.

June now. Oliver had gone on a boating trip with his dad for a few days, maybe a week, to celebrate graduation. 'A little man time', they had called it. Laurel was babysitting Thea, watching as she watched some Disney something or other on TV. The little girl leaned against the elder, nestled against Laurel's side.

"Thea, honey, are you hungry?"

"No, auntie Laur, but if you are we have food in the kitchen," Thea said halfheartedly. That little girl would do anything to appear tough, even when she hadn't eaten for the past four hours.

"Okayyy, not even a balogne sandwich? Or a PBJ?"

"Auntie Laur, you can't cook," Thea laughed.

"Hmm. I suppose you're right. But you know what I can do? I can do this!"

She tickled Thea mercilessly, the little girl laughing and screaming. Laurel picked Thea up, the youngest Queen squirming all the more, and carried her into the kitchen. She plopped Thea down on the nearest chair and rummaged through the pantry before turning her attention to the fridge.

"Let's see, we have- ow!" The older woman grabbed her stomach, almost doubling over, holding onto the refrigerator door.

"Auntie Laur! Are you okay, what's wrong?"

"I'm fine, Thea, auntie Laur is fine. I just- I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick and then I'll be back."

"Okay."

Once inside the first floor bathroom, Laurel remained there for much longer than desired. She knew Thea was worried sick, but she wasn't sure what this was. If she had to go to the hospital, then who would take care of Thea? Almost fifteen minutes later, Laurel finally emerged.

"Auntie Laur?"

"I'm okay, kiddo. Just a little bug. I'll be okay."

Three tests and a visit to her doctor confirmed it. Laurel was pregnant. Nine weeks.

The future Mrs. Laurel Queen couldn't believe it. She could, obviously, but it was something that would take a while for her to wrap her head around. At least now she had something to surprise Oliver with when he returned from the yacht trip.

On the way out of the doctor's office, Laurel caught sight of the TV. The news was on. Something about a shipwreck or something of that nature.

She got a closer look.

Her heart sank and she covered her mouth with her hands, he eyes turning into saucers.

 _ **Queen's Gambit. Lost at Sea. No known survivors. Starling City residents Robert Queen, Oliver Queen and Sara Lance among the passengers.**_

Even thousands of miles apart, Laurel guessed they were both full of surprises today.

When the hell did Sara stow away on that damn boat?

Wait a minute, Sara was on the boat? Was Ollie cheating on her after all? What the hell was going on? What would she tell Oliver if he ever came back?

But here was the most important question of the bajillion inquiries circling around in her head:

 _Could she do this alone?_


	3. Interlude

Chapter 3: Interlude

The metahuman stopped her tale, hearing more footsteps coming down the way. HR turned around. He didn't recognize the man, but Siren did. He was tall, had that rough-around-the-edges-with-a-heart-of-gold vibe, and he wore a denim jacket with jeans.

"Dean Winchester," she chuckled. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Who are you," HR asked, incredulous, before getting a text from Barry. Whatever it said made him laugh a bit uncomfortably and leave the two alone. Black Siren pushed herself up off the floor, smirking at Dean.

"You look like her," Dean observed.

"How astute of you," she snarked. Then she noticed something different in him. He was sullen, a bit down in the dumps.

"Awww, did Sammy and Castiel leave you again? I have some experience in that department," she asked honestly, though not without her typical undercurrent of baiting.

"Laurel- my Laurel, this Laurel- she's dead."

"I'm aware."

"We were together, we were gonna have a baby," he admitted. His voice was hollow. Very uncharacteristic of the Dean she knew on her earth. Her Dean was gruff, a take-no-prisoners kinda guy. She recognized that pain in his eyes, she knew it well herself. That soul-crushing loss. "And you came to see me, so you could have some closure?"

"I just needed to see you. See that you were real. I can- I can go if…" he was getting choked up already.

"No," she snapped, surprising herself. She might be a terrorist on her earth, but she wasn't a monster. She and her Dean had a similar relationship after her Oliver drowned. "You can stay."

"I heard you telling HR something about your past?"

Black Siren sighed, took a deep breath, and started back in on her tale of woe…


End file.
